Once In Your Life
by darlingmess
Summary: Love is a very strange thing indeed. /Companion piece to oneforthehaters' Heart In Your Hands./


-Author's Note-

So, check me out another story in... somewhat quick succession! Can't help but feel very proud of myself. This is a companion piece to dreamalittlebigger's story "Heart In Your Hands", just because her ending left me shaking my head and calling her a poo. (Please bear in mind that I do love her greatly and her story is awesome sauce.)

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Once In Your Life

James doesn't leave after he and Logan reconcile. The house is big enough for two, so he stays. He feels at home here, sitting on Logan's sofa; watching Logan's TV; eating Logan's food. Would it be weird to call it _their_ sofa, _their_ TV, _their_ food? James hopes not. He's waiting for Logan to come back from the hospital, he has the late rotation and it's well past nine in the evening. James looks out of the window and at the darkening skyline. A few stars peek out of the deep, shimmering blue, seen beyond the street lamps and light of other houses. James sighs, and looks briefly at the manuscript on the low wooden coffee table; _Les Miserable. _It's not quite Hollywood or even Broadway, just a small time Minnesota production. James likes it. 

The room is aglow with this strange bluish light from the TV, it's almost pretty. James scrubs a hand down his face, drags it back up again. It's not that he's lonely; he could just... use some company. It's a Friday and he has nothing better to do than look over his play. James glances at the clock in the kitchen, nine twenty-five.

James remembers when he was a teenager and having dates on Fridays were always so important to him. It brings a wry smile to his face, the sort of smile that makes his eyes flash happily for a moment and makes his heart swell. But, that was then and this is now. And now, right now, he's alone waiting for his friend. His best friend, his very best friend. His eyes flick to the dining table, to the carton of Chinese takeaway; sweet and sour pork, with Lo Mein, Logan's favourite; it's getting cold. With a groan James trundles to put the food away he makes room in the fridge and sighs. He glances at the clock again, nine thirty-something (seven?).

And suddenly he's very annoyed; he could be out doing something, anything at all. It's not like he has a lack of options, James has plenty. He could go out with his theatre buddies or go on dates or go to the leisure centre or go to the library (although James' is only doing _that_ in a dire circumstance). But see, James is a very popular boy. He even had an offer for a date.

Just yesterday Haden from the production crew had asked him out, but James said no, because he wanted to spend the weekend with Logan. Goofing off, doing whatever. It wouldn't have mattered. But, it does matter because this is the third time Haden has asked and the third time James has spent his evening alone, waiting for someone who won't even be in until four in the fucking morning.

Out of steam James closes his eyes, he's not really mad at Logan, he's mad at Logan's job, and schooling. He understanding, he really is, this is the practical aspect of Medical school and Logan is lucky to have been allowed to be a resident at an amazing teaching hospital. James should be pleased for him.

It's only that Logan doesn't seem to understand that James makes a bloody effort to hang out, and try to find more common ground after their tentative and fragile reunion. The thought that somehow he's intruding isn't new or uncommon to James. But as of late it makes his heart clench uncomfortably. It's been four months and James can only assume that his relationship with Logan is only getting better, stronger like those sad intervening years hadn't actually happened. So he hopes.

Closing the fridge that he didn't even realise he left open James sighs again and lets his head rest against it with a dull thud, it doesn't really hurt. He closes his eyes and just feels all the sudden and gut wrenching tension leave him, now he just feels lonely and somewhat cheated. He's alone, Logan's not here and Haden was a willing and attractive alternative. With a chest that goes on for days and arms that demand attention.

Haden's an alluring enough man, rugged and sexy, voice like liquid heat and an ass to die for. James was flattered when Haden first showed an interest. Besides James thinks, he's grown a little over the years his sexuality isn't something he's afraid of anymore. Having the occasional man flit across his radar doesn't make his blood run cold.

Briefly he considers calling Haden, but it's past social hours and if Logan hasn't taught him anything else it's that after ten people are either _a;_ sleeping, _b;_ out/ignoring you, or _c;_ having sex. It makes James smile to wonder if Logan found the last one out the hard, awkward way. But still it's late and James doesn't want to spend the evening waiting for someone who'll probably -unintentionally- ignore him. So he packs up his things, tidies his papers into a neat pile, turns the TV off and pushes up the stairs and into the bathroom.

He looks at himself in the mirror for a few long minutes, not really taking anything in, just staring blankly. He blinks slowly a few times, before he goes back to staring, he sighs and the washes his face. He swears when the soap gets in his eyes. He stamps his foot and bites his lip harshly. Fuck.

After the sting has subsided he brushes his teeth, slowly and methodically. It gives him something to do, he lowers the toilet lid to sit for a time, thinking, but soon his mind goes blank and he stands up. He walks into the spare room, _his _room; he peels his clothes off, not bothering to fold them he lets them fall to the floor in a pile, before pulling on his night clothes.

He goes back down stairs, socked feet dragging on the carpet. He sits on the sofa; the force of his drop makes his hair fly out. He doesn't bother to fix it. His phone is still sitting on the table, looking innocently up at him. He frowns before bending to grab it; no messages. Well, fuck him. Fuck Logan so hard his... eyes pop. -_Kisses burn a hot trail down his throat, down to his chest, and lower, James gasps out, biting his lip-. _Pressing his lips together, a thin line, James twirls his phone between his thumb and index finger.

James looks at the blank TV, grabs the remote and ignores the unbidden stirring in his loins._ -The light from the open window makes Logan's hand glow almost blue, fingers long and firm from where they rest on James' bare chest. Head bobbing Logan's hair flashes and for a moment their eyes lock and James shudders and quietly cries out-. _Running a hand down his face James sighs, he grabs for his phone, looking at the time eleven fifth-teen. He bites his lip indecisively, and wonders, Logan is still not back yet and now James is getting restless.

Hanging his head, James thinks he's hopeless and such a massive cliché. It's just so very annoying that after all these years, and after these few months that these _feelings _are back, the ones he thought he left behind years ago. Those feelings only came with lust filled confusion and a seething, dormant rage. But, only now that the anger has gone, the lust is stronger more profound. Only, it wasn't that memory still had his pulse racing and breath coming in choppy, but now it had softened around the edges. Still large and thought -heart- consuming, but less spiky and harsh.

All considered he's not actually sure when his feelings began to take over his life, James has come to grips that he likes very much Logan (in _that_ way, although that makes him sound like a twelve year old, a twelve year old girl at that.) But it's true and he cannot help it, he feels it whenever he see Logan, whenever he comes down the stairs to see him, sat in a tidy heap on the sofa, eating cereal and watching early morning cartoons. _-His skin burns and he feels like he's on fire, when Logan kisses his way back up to James' mouth he can almost feel the words whispered on his flesh; sweet and adoring.- _Staring at the corridor James ignores his smarting eyes. James Diamond is many things but a pussy is not one of them.

And now, he sounds like this massive PMS-ing bitch. Which all things considered -his penis- is not cool. He huffs and looks back at the clock; twelve, bloody perfect. Its tomorrow and Logan still isn't home, the annoying, inconsiderate, lovely, bastardly, adorable... bastard. He glances at his phone again, the sudden urge to phone or text someone, anyone, _Logan_ is almost overpowering.

Again, he ignores the urge. He runs hands through his hair and tugs slightly; the small jolt of pain is somewhat calming. Blinking hard he gets up; walking over to the kitchen again he pulls open the fridge. Rummaging around, he pulls out a six pack of Beer, with a wry smile James places it on the countertop. Glass clinking on the granite. _-Logan has a mouth that tastes like cheap beer and whisky. James doesn't quite mind now, not whilst Logan is doing this maddening trick with his tongue. James barely suppresses a whimper when Logan pulls away, he follows blindly for more. He doesn't bother hide his giggle when Logan runs sloppy kisses down his throat again, he gasps outright when Logan's tongue flicks and teeth pinches at his nipple, sending a ripple of interest to his groin.- _Ignoring the faint blush that rises from his neck James fumbles for a bottle opener.

Downing the first, James blinks heavily and sluggish, the alcohol dulling the light in his eyes. It smoothes out some of his unease, but not much. He hiccups suddenly, the sound rings out, he reaches for the second bottle. _-James desperately wants to touch, anywhere he can Logan's back, his chest, his ass. Logan's got a fucking brilliant ass.-_

By his fourth things start to get blurry, and the room begins to spin and there's a slight ringing in his ears. He was never good at holding his drink. But then again Logan wasn't either. -_"I'm so drunk" Logan says, strangely coherent.- _James likes to think he's a man, an actual man, and from the brief and failed attempts at pep talks by his father, men don't cry. At least not the large gulping tears James is (rather gallantly, fuck you very much) bottling up. He's been fine thus far; he should have known he'd be an emotional drunk. Logan's not, he's giddy and blunt and oddly insightful.

But not that night, that night he was a little more, a little bit more forceful and demanding; _-James' eyes widen, and fuck him, its so true. Logan is drunk and James is selfish. Some form of strength withstanding James tries to peel Logan off, but Logan, stubborn fucker, won't budge. Then he's palming at James' cock, and whispering filthy things into his chest. And damn if James is going to be the thoughtful one. He reciprocates fisting Logan's cock and pumps until Logan is trembling and turning James onto his knees. - _The shudder of lagging warm lust is almost nice.

When the tide of emotion dies down, he stares blankly at the TV set again. He's cradling the sixth to his chest, nursing it with the patience of a saint. His head lolls from one side to another. His head hurts and a slight headache swells with the movement. He wishes Logan were here. To at least sooth him and coo, and stroke his cheek. James sighs and it almost feels real.

He jerks awake at the sound of the front door creaking open. Swallowing down the bile that rises, he glances at the clock. Two o'clock. He didn't even notice when he fell asleep. When the light flicks on, James hisses and squeezes his eyes shut. He feels this warm weight in front of him, pushing back into the sofa he shies away from it. From him; because it can only really be one person.

"James?" There's a pause, and something James briefly recognises as a sigh, frowning he keeps quiet. "Jamie, look what you've done."

Then there's this burning, incandescent rage, which sweeps him up and makes him jump and itch. James' has done nothing, nothing whatsoever, and somehow he thinks that's part of the problem. This is a silly problem really, because in all honesty this could have been relatively quick and painless. He thinks he sees how Logan looks at him sometimes, how his eyes flash and linger a bit too long; like his touches. Now, he sort of realises that Logan has never been a touchy person, besides the amicable pats and the brotherly hugs; he's never really liked being pressed up against someone he wasn't exactly dating.

But, thing is, he does with James, he sits far too close. He touches for longer than he needs to, and when they walk sometimes their hands brush.

Throughout all this, he doesn't notice exactly how close Logan is until he has his palm pressed against James' forehead and his breath ghosting along James' face. Snapping his eyes open James sees Logan knelt on the floor nose to nose and chest to chest, between his knees. Leaning slightly forward James presses into Logan's hand. He doesn't notice when the beer bottle is tugged out of his hands and placed onto the floor, or when Logan's breathing become a tad more laboured. Holding this sudden and sweet eye contact James surges forward, wrapping his arms around Logan's shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

"Welcome home." The words are whispered and burrowed into Logan's skin, with a soft trail James kisses his way down to Logan's mouth the alcohol giving him courage, but he thinks tomorrow it will feel like stupidity. He doesn't dwell on that. No, what he dwells on is the feel of Logan's skin, the smell, and taste. Logan feels warm and a little bit sticky; the drag of his faint stubble is nice. He smells minty and a little like sugary coffee and just the tiniest bit like a patient's vomit. But really, he tastes fantastic, minty and coffee-y, but fucking fantastic. Like something James has been waiting years for.

When they part, James is smiling but Logan has this small, barely there frown. Logan starts to pull away, but James holds on tighter.

"James, let go. Please." Logan reaches up and tugs at James elbows, fingers curling in the creases. His pinkie slides under James' pyjama brown shirt.

"No. Why?"

"You taste like beer. You're drunk." Looking down Logan continues, speaking to the floor. "So fucking drunk, Jamie."

"No. Well, not really." But somewhere he can imagine he is. But it doesn't matter because now he can think clear as crystal and nothing is dictating him. Or his actions, no nothing at all. But Logan isn't having it, he isn't looking at James, eyes still trained on the floor.

"Please Logan." Dropping two fingers to his chin James tilts it up. "Look at me." When Logan does the eye contact is equal part intense and gratifying. "I want this." And to be honest James has no idea where that confession came from. But it feels right and warm on his tongue. "I want you."

He kisses him again, a series of resolve strengthening pecks, ones which leave both him and Logan shuddering and clinging tighter. Logan drops his hands to James waist, holding on; James feels maybe Logan fingers will leave marks, pretty little bruises. But in all practicality, James he looks horrible in bruises, so he hopes not. But still he wouldn't mind a constant physical reminder.

Logan seems to accept this, because when he gets up, he doesn't walk away or smile all melancholy at James. He stands rolls his shirt sleeves up and sits beside him. Drumming his fingers on his knees, he leans into James, before shifting to rest his head in his lap. He wiggles around a bit getting comfortable before he stops. Laying on his front, feet hanging off the armrest, head laying, rather snug, in James's lap, and his arm wraps around James' calf hand resting on his knee.

Sighing after a few moments of comfortable silence Logan says; "Yes, alright."

James places him hand on Logan's head, running his fingers through Logan's hair. It feels nice and soft, the hair gel long gone, probably from Logan running his fingers through it too much. But whatever it is, James likes it. He smiles looking at the blank TV set and then at his phone. When Logan nudges the inside of his knee with his nose, James' smile grows into a fully fledged grin. Looking at the clock its half past three and James can't help his content little sigh and his little good-natured yelp when Logan presses his thumb into the skin at his knee, mumbling about sleep and food.

In about two hours James thinks he'll wake him up, shove him in his car and drive him to the first diner they find. Order a tower of pancakes, a side of bacon and some hot chocolate. He doesn't realise he's said it out loud until Logan mumbles he wants marshmallows in his hot chocolate. And sprinkles.

James just laughs quietly to himself and agrees. He ducks down to place a kiss to the crown of Logan's head.

END

-Author's Note-

This is quite overdue *runs to hide* and dreamalittlebigger has the patience of a saint. She is rather lovely and deserves; chocolate, cuddles and loads of tinternet pie.


End file.
